


Percy Weasley and the Pilot in the Attic

by captainoflifeandlemons



Category: Cabin Pressure, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crime Fighting, Gen, Martin's attic, mentions of offscreen character death, mentions of various other characters in the HP and CP universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainoflifeandlemons/pseuds/captainoflifeandlemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy Weasley has fallen far in the past few months. He and his family aren't speaking, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, the Ministry is in shambles, and worst of all, he has a sneaking suspicion that he is in the wrong. Martin Crieff has been falling for most of his life, something flying is only ever a temporary solution to. He works as a delivery man and spends free time travelling around the globe at all hours with MJN air, working for free as one of their (two) pilots. But when your life is coming to pieces, maybe a few parts of somebody else's will fill in the holes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January

**Author's Note:**

> The first draft of this fic was written a long time ago, but I find I'm still in the process of writing and rewriting and editing and posting it. All in all, it's something I've quite enjoyed and hope you will as well. I was partially inspired by errantcomment's Rules for Martin, which I highly recommend (so go check it out when you get the chance: http://archiveofourown.org/works/391523), although I had the idea before I read that. Comments are highly appreciate, and please point out any errors you see. As the time periods are conflicting, I'm just saying that everything's set a couple years ago, around season three of Cabin Pressure. The war with Voldemort has yet to occur.

                Percy Weasley looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and up at the rather worn building before him. A faded sign advertised Parkside Terrace, a living area favored among those attending the nearby agricultural college. Percy adjusted his glasses before knocking on the door. He was taking an enormous risk in this pointless venture, a risk that was in no way cancelled out by the preparations he had made or what little he stood to gain. Then again, it wasn’t so much for the gain as it was the prevention of further loss. 

                A casually dressed Muggle opened the front door. He looked to be about two years younger than Percy, with brown eyes and a nondescript face. Percy noted this all carefully before introducing himself. “My name is Percy Weasley. I’m here to see the room out for rent? I’ve talked to the owner of the place, and he assured me that although typically the building is reserved for students there is another permanent tenant here not attending the university. I asked if it would be alright to stop—”

                “Oh, sure.” The boy opened the door, gesturing for Percy to come in. “The landlord mentioned you might be dropping by. I’m Dean. I’ll show you ‘round the building if you want…there’s not much to it, but…oi!” The young man gestured to two curious heads that had appeared in the hall behind him. “This is Percy. He’s come to check the place out. Percy, this is Cameron and Andrew.” 

                Percy smiled thinly at all three of them. “Pleasure.” Carefully shifting to take off of his coat, second-hand but tidy enough in a Muggle way, he stepped inside. 

                The next half hour was spent walking around the building, Percy giving every appearance of listening intently to what he was told. In truth, he knew most of it to begin with—his research beforehand had been quite extensive—but there were a few quirks of the place (and Muggle life in general) that made it worth coming down for, and it was an easy way to ensure that, in fact, none of the inhabitants had the slightest trace of magical blood. 

And then there was Martin Crieff.

                They had just left the room that Percy was considering renting and headed down to the kitchen when Dean gave Percy a hard look, setting his coffee down on the countertop. “There’s another thing.” Andrew and Cameron (who were the only other two home at this hour) leaned against the wall across from him, both glancing at Dean. “We’ve got a sort of…”

                “Pilot,” Cameron supplied. “In the attic. And if he asks, this conversation never happened. Landlord probably mentioned him to you, but there are a few things that you’ve got to know about Martin. You won’t be seeing much of him, probably, but all the same chances are you’ll end up spending some amount of time together.  And he’s a bit…look, we all care about Martin, and we see to it that he’s taken care of as well. He’s a nice enough guy, just…not very good at…talking. But that’s okay, really, it gets better once you know him. He’s in his thirties, pilot at MJN air.”

                “So never  keep him up nights.” Andrew cut in with perfect timing, almost as if this was a talk they had given several times before. Which, considering the influx of new residents in the student building, was altogether too likely. “He works hard, y’know? He needs his sleep. He’s cutting it close as it is. Between flying and his other job—never ask about that, by the way—we’re all amazed he does as well as he does. Sometimes he tries to stay awake doing work, or just can’t get to sleep. You make him. If all else fails, put on an episode of Lost downstairs. Cam’s got them all on DVD.” He grinned, nudging the girl. “That’s what comes of being American, right, Cameron? Martin loves that show but can never stay awake throughout.”

                Dean picked it up again. “On a similar subject, we try and make sure he’s eating enough. We all pitch in and buy groceries every so often, and everyone’s welcome to take what they need. Only, don’t. But if you could contribute sometimes, just once a month or so, we’d all appreciate it. Also, he loves aviation. Not just what you’d expect from a pilot—it borders on an obsession. If he starts talking about planes and things just listen politely and get away soon as you get the chance, or he’ll never stop.” Tapping his leg, Dean paused. “Oh, right. In the case of any minor emergency, just find one of us. If that’s not possible call one of his crew members; the numbers are on the table over there.” 

                _Their concern is endearing,_ Percy mused. _Especially when one considers that I’m only here to view the room. There’s every possibility that I won’t—_

                But Percy had come too far into this to back out now, and he knew that he would never forgive himself if he did. By the end of the month everything was settled and his things were all neatly put away in his new home. 


	2. February

                Percy set his bags down in the room that he had come to know and—well, know, at least. It was just as shabby as the room he had grown up in, tucked away in the sort of Muggle town that no one would think to be watching. _Good._ He didn’t feel it was safe to be so close to the Ministry any more. He could easily Apparate to work from a small isolated park nearby; nothing would seem amiss.

                But it was.

                Even Percy could admit that he had been wrong, if only to himself. His family had been in the right all along. The Ministry was not what it had once been. Of course, he couldn’t quit. He couldn’t go back. That would only put everyone in more danger. No, instead he had relocated, ready to disappear if the need came but waiting with bated breath until then. When Percy had come around, he had done so quickly, practically, and entirely.

                lowly, he began to unpack the rest of his things. Nearly everything had already been brought in the other day, so there wasn’t much. He carried a few photographs, some letters from Penelope (they had broken up just the past year), various mementos from his Hogwarts years, several books, and his owl. He was just settling Hermes’ cage on the dresser when a subtle knock sounded from the doorway.

                Quickly dropping his things, Percy strode over. “Come in.”

                A man who was probably ten or so years older than Percy entered the room. He wore a suit that Percy recognized as a Muggle pilot’s uniform, topped off with a rather ornate hat and that particularly busy expression worn by people who are not, as a matter of fact, pressed for time but would like you to think that they are.

                Percy inclined his head, offering a hand to shake. “Mr. Crieff, I presume? I’m Percy Weasley.”

                "A pleasure." Martin reached for Percy's hand, then pulled back and subconsciously straightened his hat before shaking it. "You're quite right, only the mister is not really necessary, I prefer Captain--not that you should call me that, of course, Martin's fine."

                Percy didn't respond, just listened to the babbling with mild distaste.

                “I thought I ought to introduce myself,” Martin continued after a pause. “And welcome you to the building.”

                “I appreciate it.” Percy gave a thin smile that clearly and politely said _go away_.

                “The students have told you all of the building’s rules, I’m sure.”

                “I hardly need to be told the rules.” Percy frowned stiffly. “I did speak to the owner.”

                Countering the frown with a slightly condescending smile, Martin replied. “Of course you did.”

                Percy busied himself with folding a jacket, pressing it into the chest of drawers. He didn’t respond, and for a moment the only sound to be heard was the light music playing from across the hall.

                “I imagine you’ll enjoy getting to know the other students. They’re quite…”

                “Enjoyable?” Percy offered a wan smile. “I’m sure. However, I don’t intend on being here much. My job…keeps my away for most of the day. I presume yours must as well—you work for an airline, correct?” The last statement was thrown out in the same idle tone used by people who are standing in line somewhere and don’t _really_ wish to know about the person’s life behind them but feel it polite to ask.

                "Yes, actually, I’m a pilot.”

                "So I can see. The hat."

                A few more remarks were exchanged, a few more snide comments stifled, and then Martin was gone. Percy didn’t even see him again for the rest of the week. For the start of something remarkable, it rather wasn’t.

 


	3. March

                Percy hummed steadily to himself as he headed outside, carrying his bag with wizarding robes and paperwork tucked neatly inside. Life had begun to settle into a nice routine in Fitton; his days were spent at work and his nights studying and sleeping. Things were as alright as could be expected.

                It was late by the time he returned to the Terrace. He’d been swamped with paperwork all day, not that that was out of the ordinary for him. What troubled Percy were the matters which the paperwork had concerned.

                 _Things are getting worse. Things have been getting worse for a long time._

                It had been about four months—it had been exactly four months, three days, actually—since he had acknowledged this. The realization itself wasn’t the hard part. It was knowing that he should have come to such conclusions long before he did that got to him. It was acknowledging that his family had been right. They had been right about You-Know-Who, about Dumbledore, and about the Ministry. It was the last shock that hit him the hardest, knowing that the system (he system he had looked up to since he was a boy, the system that his dad had been so proud of yet so livid with for years, the system that had, for him, taken the place of a school whose flaws had led to too many deaths) was more corrupt than he ever would have imagined.

                It was one thing to know such things, and another entirely to act upon them. Percy knew that this charade wouldn’t last. He would have to leave eventually, have to get out. Moving away from the city had done some good for him, but there was far more good to be done. The trouble was that once he fled the Ministry, there was nowhere—

                “Hey!”

                Lost in his thoughts and half-asleep after the long day, Percy had practically stepped on one of the students who was lounging on the steps of the building.

                “Watch it, will you?”

                “Sorry, I can’t say I was expecting someone to be quite as in the way as you are. I would have made accommodations.” Percy looked disdainfully down at the girl, who met his gaze coolly. “If you’re waiting for someone inside, I can send them out.”

                “ _Actually_ ,” the young woman said in a tone brimming with something too disinterested to be called contempt, “I happen to live here.”

                “I’ve never seen you around here before.” His hand reached almost unconsciously towards the pocket in which his wand was kept. _Careful, now. If she really is a Muggle, you don’t want to get into this. If she’s isn’t, there’s nothing you can do anyways._

                “Yet strangely enough, whether or not you’ve been introduced to a person does not determine if they reside in this building.” She got to her feet. “I spent the better part of this semester abroad. Just got back. That’s why I was out here, you know? Sometimes you have to reassure yourself that you’re really home. The stars always look different from your own front porch.”

                “I’m not one for looking at the stars. If you’re staring up, you can’t see where you’re going.” Percy gave her a stiff nod, making as though to continue towards the door, but she stopped him.

                “So, what about you? Are you a student?”

                 _When I began to leave the wizarding world behind, I didn’t intend to trade it in for one full of inquisitive Muggles._ “Not hardly. I’m just living here while in the midst of a…transitive period at work. I don’t intend to be here long.”

                The student opened her mouth as if to ask another question, but both were stopped as the door to the building in front of them opened. Percy recognized the weary figure as none other than Martin Crieff, the elusive pilot who seemed to spend most every moment of each day at work. For once, he wasn’t in uniform. Giving the two of them a curt nod, he made his way to a van parked outside of the building. It was too dark for Percy to read the lettering on the side, but the car was a far cry from the one that usually picked the man up for his jobs with MJN.

                Before Percy could ascertain exactly what was going on, the girl cut in. “Let’s try this again. What’s your name?”

                “Percy. Percy Weasley.” Shuffling his work bags all to one hand, he held out the other.

                She shook it. “Nice to meet you, Percy. My name is Audrey.”

 


	4. April

“See you all in a week.” Percy smiled slightly as he waved the students off. Although he wouldn’t really call any of them friends, they had gradually accepted him as part of their life and a part that was fairly decent. Most of them.

                Noticing Audrey’s meaningful look, Percy exhaled impatiently and walked over to Martin. The captain had stopped to help Dean repack his suitcase after a catastrophe on the stairwell, and didn’t notice Percy standing over him until he cleared his throat.

                “Oh! Hello, Percy, isn’t it?”

                “Martin.” Percy gave him a nod. “I, ah, later tonight I had planned on ordering in and perhaps watching some Lost. There’s been an influx of paperwork in my box, and I prefer to have something playing the background while I work when I’m not in the office.” A lie, of course. “Thom recommended I start it and told me that you’re a fan of the series; would you care to join me?”

                Brushing his pants off, Martin stood. “I appreciate the offer, but I have a late flight…if you’re still up when I return, I’d be happy to join you.”

Percy couldn’t help but bristle about at the sense of let’s-humor-the-lonely-kid in the older man’s tone. He recognized it well enough—it was the way he had spoken to his younger brothers for years. Still, he masked his annoyance and smiled. “Glad to hear it. I hope your flight goes well.”

But as he made his way back to his room, the building now emptied of students, his only thought was that this would be the first Easter he would spend alone.

                --

                When Audrey had suggested (a very clear hint with just the slightest touch of a threat—that girl would have gone far in Slytherin) that he spend the night participating in Muggle activities with the pilot, he had never expected to have to go through with it. But when Martin returned to the building, Percy had been struck by the thought that the man wasn’t going home to any family or friends for the holidays either.

Percy regretted his empathy.

He took a deep breath, looking down at the disc in his hand. “Well, then.” He’d never really noticed before how complicated Muggle DVD players were. There were an awful lot of buttons one could push, and few were labeled. Hesitantly, casting furtive glances at Martin, he began to hit some. Nothing happened. Trying to remember his Muggle Studies classes, he realized what he’d forgotten and laughed shakily. “Sorry. Didn’t put the disc in.” _Ah, where to…there doesn’t seem to be a hole of sorts anywhere._ He was slipping it under the box instead, rather hopelessly, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

                “Mmhh? Oh. Everything’s under control, I should have it running in, in any moment now.”

                Martin laughed. Percy, startled, realized that this was the first time he’d heard the other man do so. “You’re really terrible with technology, aren’t you?”

                “No. Well, a bit, yeah,” Percy amended. He ducked his head, knowing he was blushing and hating it. He couldn’t bear to appear so incompetent.

                “Why don’t you let me set this up while you go order food? I assume you know how to use a telephone.”

                Percy responded solemnly, missing the joking tone. “I do. I’ve had explicit instructions on how to do so.”

                Martin opened his mouth, closed it, and turned away.

                Walking into the kitchen, Percy found the telephone and the list of numbers next to it. “A pizza place ought to be simple enough. If Muggle relations officers can do this, than so can I.” Percy continued to mutter to himself as he dialed the number on the phone. Carefully, he held it up against his ear, nearly jumping when a voice sounded.

                “Hello?”

                “Oh! Yes! Hello!”

                “Can we ‘elp you, sir?”

                “Yes. Yes, if you please. I would like a pizza.” His mind flew back to his Muggle Studies course. He grappled with his memories, unable to recall anything dealing with the food industries, and decided it was better to order more food than to come up short.  
“Disregard that—two. If you can do that.”

                “I reckon we can. How—”

                “On second thought, I don’t know how hungry Martin is…can you make that three, maybe?”

                “Sure, son. What sizes and kinds? Any toppings? Thin or thick crust?”

                “Sorry, can you please repeat that? Let me get a pen and some parchm…paper, I suppose…”

                “Just tell me what kind of pizzas you want.”

                “Oh, well, just whatever you have lying around. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

                “Is this a prank call?”

                “Of course not! Just bring me three pizzas. Any sort. Here’s the address.” Percy hung up as soon as he could, shaking slightly. _I don’t know how Muggles do this._

                “They’re on their way,” he reassured Martin upon reentering the common room. He seated himself on the couch. Martin, who was already sitting, clicked a button the remote. Percy tried to fight the giddy sense of excitement rising inside of him. _I can actually do this. I could leave the ministry. Live out here. I think I make a rather fine Muggle. And now I’m watching a television show! Blending in with the locals, hm? We sometimes took fieldtrips in class to find a place where tech would work and watch movies, but this is different. This isn’t an educational film. This is what they do for fun. I’m fitting in, I really am._

                And then the show began, and Percy found himself too caught up in the action to even pull his work from the bag he had brought down.

                “There’s something out there. _There is something in that forest_. They’re all going to die, aren’t they? If this is some sort of perverse cautionary tale, I believe I’ll have to write to the producer.” Percy, realizing he was clutching the arm of the couch, let go.

                Martin looked on, amused. “You…really get into this sort of thing, don’t you?”

                “I can’t exactly not. It’s worryingly realistic. Like magic, almost.” The words slipped out before he could think, and Percy cursed his lack of care. _No matter. Even a Muggle could make such a comparison._

                “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s all _that_ realistic. The whole sequence on the plane…so many regulations ignored…”

                “But the actors—they all look as if it’s truly happening. It’s reminiscent of an elongated picture—” Percy stumbled on his words, catching himself before he continued to muse on the similarities between Muggle and wizarding methods. “Besides, not everyone can be as professional as I’m sure MJN is.”

Martin looked a bit flustered when he replied. “Ah. Yes. Of course, at my airline, we’re all entirely professional. Highly qualified pilots and steward. Ss.” Martin gave a bit of a laugh just as the doorbell rang.

                “I’ll get it!” Percy, on strict orders from the students to pay for everything, jumped up. He opened the door with a smile, the Muggle money counted out neatly in his hand.

                “Thanks, and here you are. Oh. Oh, my. And here I am.” Percy staggered backwards with the three pizza boxes, nodding at the delivery person. _These are a little bit bigger than I was expecting._

                Martin raised an eyebrow as he joined Percy in the kitchen. “Hungry, are you?”

                “I. I thought we could save ourselves the trouble of going out for food for the next…week.”

                Martin gave Percy a somewhat pitying, uncertain look. “Alright, then.” Getting two plates out, he took a slice and left for the other room. Percy did likewise.

                That night, as he sat on the couch, he realized something. Two things, in fact. Perhaps, Muggles didn’t have it too badly. And perhaps, despite all that was going on, neither did he. Not this Easter, at least.


	5. May

                Nobody had seen Percy Weasley for the past week.

                Martin wasn’t even aware that he was missing, at first. He was rarely at the Terrace himself, and Percy wasn’t the most sociable of people. After Easter, the two had talked, and Martin had begun to almost admire the quiet boy, but their interactions were limited to the occasional episode of Lost (usually with Cameron and one or two of the others around) and small talk in the mornings before work. It was only when Audrey—who took it upon herself to care for everyone in the building—asked him if he knew where Percy was that he began to worry.

                It was well past midnight when the attic door slammed open. Martin hadn’t been sleeping; the moment he heard the noise he sat upright and flipped on a light.

 “Four days. Where have you _been_? Audrey was making a fuss—” His irritation dissipated, overrun by worry, when he saw the look in Percy’s eyes. “What happened?  Percy, tell me what happened.”

                Percy didn’t reply at first. His normally pristine appearance was ragged, his eyes filled with hurt and hatred. He seemed to have aged about a century, carrying the weight of the world on his back. “Martin. I need you to drive me somewhere.”

                “Is that…is that blood on your clothes? Are you wearing a _robe_? Percy, I don’t—”

                “Martin. Please. Just do this one thing. It’s all I’m asking. I promise I’ll explain but I need you to drive me somewhere!” Percy, looking on the verge of tears, fled the room. Martin followed as hurriedly as he could, skidding to a halt once outside near his delivery van. A few students looked on from the windows, aghast.

                “Percy, if you don’t tell me what’s going on here…”

                “GET IN THE VAN.”

Martin, mildly terrified, obeyed.

                Percy calmed down slightly once they had pulled out of the drive. “I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this, Martin. I promise I’ll explain everything. Just…just give me this one trip. If you trust me. Please.”

                Martin was quiet for a moment. “Just tell me which way to drive.”

                With directions from a file-folder that sat in Percy’s lap, the two made their way out of town and to a small suburban neighborhood. Percy was out almost before the car stopped, running for a nice-looking house and calling back over his shoulder. “Wait right here! I’ll be back in a minute. And don’t, don’t freak out.”

                Martin waited; Percy was indeed back in a minute. The last standard, however, could not be met.

                Martin thought he swore, but couldn’t be sure. His mind was a little bit too blank. He may have simply stared in stunned silence at his roommate, who had returned with a body slung over his shoulder.

                It took him a moment to regain the ability to think. Trying to appear in control of the situation, Martin reached into his pocket and pulled out the old cellphone he kept around for emergency purposes. ”Stop where you are. I’ll call the police.”

                “Martin, this isn’t what it looks like.”

                “I swear, if you take another step…” Martin didn’t know what the charges were for aiding and abetting a murderer, but he doubted they’d believe his plea of innocent.

                “He’s not dead, really! Now, look.”

                “Stay where you are! I, I am, I will, I—”

                “Sorry about this. I honestly am.” Martin froze and Percy pulled out something—a gun? And then he froze again, but this time literally.

                “I hate to do that to you, but I need to explain.”

                Martin wondered what a panic attack felt like. He couldn’t move his arms. Or his legs. Or anything. _I’m not thinking clearly. I must have bumped my head. Or else he did._

                “I can’t believe I’m saying this. I don’t really have a choice, though, do I? And, no offense, but I doubt anyone would believe you. The thing is, when I told you that I worked for the Minister I wasn’t being entirely truthful. I mean, I do, but not the one I led you to believe. The Minister of Magic. At least, I did. I quit. I’m a wizard, Martin.”

                _Definitely him._

                “You think I’m lying, naturally. Then why are you frozen? Do you need further proof?” Percy pulled out the object again, and Martin would have laughed if he could have moved his mouth.

                _A magic wand. Naturally. Life has lost all sense._

                Percy shot a few sparks from his wand. “See? Magic. It’s real, Martin. Don’t deny yourself the truth. This man isn’t dead, he’s Stunned. Unconscious. He was…he was one of them.”

                Until that point, Martin had refused it. He had spent the past few minutes telling himself it was an illusion, a hallucination, a dream, a trick. But then Percy’s expression lost something. He slid down against the van, the body abandoned on the ground. Slowly, almost painfully, a story escaped from his lips. It was the story of another world mirroring theirs, of a boy called Harry Potter and a man Percy refused to name. It toyed with reality, touching down in places like London only to escape once more to the fantastical realms of Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic, and Diagon Alley. Magic danced along the edges, but it wasn’t a fairy tale. It was a war story. It was the story of a boy who had placed all of his faith in a corrupt ideal of command, who had gripped onto it so tightly that when it fell he had fallen as well. It was the story of a self-proclaimed traitor. To his family, who he had renounced and abandoned. To his government, who he had first failed to find fault in and then deserted. To his brother. At this point in the tale, at the death of a relative, Percy fell silent. “And now I’ve broken the Statute of Secrecy. But I couldn’t—I haven’t been able to Apparate properly, and I had to—it’s against the law.”

                Anyone else would have wondered Percy’s worry about _that_ in the midst of everything, but Martin understood perfectly. They were kindred spirits in that regard, Percy and him. They understood the need for rules. When everything else fell apart, the rules still stood. They were something one could always hide in until the storm passed.

                “I’m going to let you go now, alright?” The wand was out again. Martin could just barely make out Percy whispering a few words, and then he was free. Shakily, he slid down next to Percy.

                After a moment, Percy coughed uncertainly. Martin held out a hand. “Sh. I’m trying to think of a clever reply to all of that that shows both sympathy and that if this is a joke, I don’t believe it one bit.”

                “And is this a joke?” Percy looked Martin in the eye.

                “Yes.”

                Percy managed a weak smile. “I don’t believe that one bit.”

                “Nor should you.” Martin looked at the body and shuddered. “What are you going to do with…with him?”

                “I’ll leave him on the Ministry’s doorstep, metaphorically speaking. Just Apparate there and back. I should—I think I’ll be able to. I just need a few moments.”

                Martin tried to look as if he understood that.

                “I apologize, once more, for bringing you into this mess.”

                Martin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that one bit.”

                He couldn’t believe it either when, a curt nod later, Percy vanished with the body in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies, everyone! It's been a long time since I've had a chance to work on this fic. Here's the newest installment, and hopefully I'll be able to update with greater frequency now.


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